Scripted
by ObsessiveChick999
Summary: With Chris Jericho's fueds coming to a close, the McMahon's feel it's time to bring back some of the old storylines loved by the fans. Meanwhile, Trish Stratus has decided to make a comeback to the WWE. As fate would have it, love is often Scripted. CJ/TS
1. Generically Comfortable

**A/N:** Well, this is my first time posting a wrestling fic. This first chapter is sort of an introduction to it all and a way for you to see my style of writing. I understand it's not for everyone, but I hope you enjoy none-the-less. Also, I know it's a rather short chapter but I hope to get them decent sized as the plot thickens. Oh! And review please! I leave you to your reading. ;)

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**Generically Comfortable**

It was right after the cameras had finished rolling and the buzz backstage was slowly dulling down to a soft hum. The Raw Superstars were all in their respective dressing rooms, and the 'mid-carder's' and 'jobbers' were making small talk in the locker room. Fans were gradually making their way out of the arena; they were all chattering away about this wrestler or that match. It was a normal day in the life of the WWE. A well oiled machine, everything was planned out to the very last detail. To call wrestling fake is to demean the hard work done behind the scenes. Hours upon hours are put into setting up and choreographing the intricate dance that is a WWE spectacle. Whether it be at Raw, Smackdown, or the baby brother, ECW, everyone who works on said projects put their time and effort into making the fans happy.

On Raw, everyone knows who the big names are: Batista, Randy Orton, HBK, John Cena, JBL, and the irreplaceable Chris Jericho. All loved or hated at any point in time, their storylines capture the interest and imaginations of all those who let themselves be caught up in the action and drama. Little do fans know though, that sometimes the wrestlers themselves get wrapped up in the webs the McMahon's weave for their stars.

Y2J, as he is called by the masses, sat in his dressing room when a knock knock knock, came at his door. Heaving a sigh, the tried Canadian arose hearing his right knee crack loudly. He hissed under his breath a soft curse. The main even match that night had consisted of a Handicapped match with himself against, oddly enough Orton and Batista. The former Evolution buddies had obviously ended up going to blows, but that did not mean Jericho had gotten off easily. Obviously, the match had been practiced before and choreographed to the T, but he had fallen wrong, and it was all it took to make him more than just a little uncomfortable. Of course, Chris knew what he was getting into when he came back to the WWE, but he just couldn't stay away. He had been bit by the wrestling bug and loved it too much to sit by and watch what could be, handed over to men who did not work half as hard as he did.

Opening the door to his dressing room he was met with the smirking face of Stephanie McMahon. Her television persona was almost identical to the way she was in real life. A light smile crept over Chris's face as he greeted the WWE princess softly.

"How's your knee doing?" she asked simply, looking down his form to eye the leg she knew he must've damaged somewhat. Always watching like a hawk, Stephanie was aware of just how valuable each and every Superstar was.

Still dressed in his wrestling attire, Chris shrugged his muscular shoulders and bent his knee some. "It's okay," he started off with a rather grim look upon his handsome face. Stephanie looked back up and settled her gaze on his blue eyes. Jericho let a small chuckle escape and he smirked, "I'll live."

A brief moment of silence over took the pair, and the blond man crossed his arms over his broad chest, merely waiting to see what it was that his boss wanted. There had always been slight attraction between the two of them, and although they never spoke of it and no real feelings ever surfaced, the tension was often palpable. As it was right now. On screen, they could pull off an almost antagonistic relationship but in real life Stephanie worried about Jericho much more than she did about other men on the roster. Not only was he one of the most valuable commodities, but he was a nice guy. Well, it was better to say he was a nice guy, for the most part.

"With Cena returning over to Smackdown," Stephanie started in a very business-like tone. "Your feud with him really has nowhere to go. And to tell you the truth, I'm kind of sick of your character picking a fight with anyone for the sake of it…" she trailed off and invited herself in, brushing past Chris and settling herself upon a low bench with sat parallel to the top of the doorframe. She would usually contact him through a runner and have him met her in her office seeing as she liked being seen behind her desk, looking powerful and busy. This time though, she figured she might as well speak to him in his own setting. "Not to mention the fact that eventually you're going to have to turn face," she added with a wave of her hand. Everyone turned face eventually, some were just better at it than others.

From experience and fan reaction, Steph knew Jericho was absolutely hated as a Heel but loved as a Face. He could turn quite easily and the crowds would react accordingly. Some superstars had a harder time getting the masses behind them once they turned, but things were pretty simple when the star in question was not only talented but charismatic. Chris Jericho was a very hard character to ignore, and in her own mind, very hard to dislike.

"This obviously means that we'll need a new story line for you, so I'm just giving you a heads up," she said only to stand back up and smooth out the front of her simple blue button-up blouse. She had made herself comfortable mere moments before for no real reason and now she felt slightly useless. Stephanie, though internally she tapped herself for being so informal, was just as snip and professional as she always was.

Jericho wasn't the best at reading people and so as he watched Stephanie stand he merely brushed off her actions and ran a hand through his short blond hair. "Oh, okay," was all he said. What else could he say? He wasn't asked to give ideas and he certainly had no input. Lately, he had just been going through the motions of being a Heel. His curiosity at would likely change the face of his character surfaced and he leaned on the back of his closed door, gazing at Stephanie in the way he did anyone: Intensely. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"The writers and myself are figuring it out, but we're hoping to bring back some of the older elements. Maybe rehash some of the more popular story-lines, freshen them up." Steph's voice was calm and cool as she slowly started to make her way closer to the door; motioning her exit and the end of the conversation.

Moving away from the entrance, Chris opened the door for her and bid her a goodnight. He'd make the rounds and talk to a couple of the guys and then hop into his car and get back to the hotel… and sleep. At the moment, Chris only wanted to take a rest. It wasn't that he was unhappy or anything, but after practically carrying the show on his shoulders he merely wanted to rest. Tomorrow he'd be in higher spirits and perhaps roam around the city some before having to pick up his belongings and get on the road once again.

-=-

Ah, the road, he thought to himself once in his generically comfortable hotel bed.

To this day he was sure what had destroyed his marriage was being on the road all of the time. There were only so many days and nights a woman could spend on her own till she found solace in the arms of another man. In his case, one of his closest childhood friends had been there with open arms to console his wife. His blood boiled at the thought. Had his children seen their mother kiss another man lovingly and hear them whisper about him in dark corners of the house he had, at the time, paid for? He assumed as much and he hated them for it. Not his children, mind you, but his now ex wife and friend. "Good riddance to them," he muttered sleepily under his breath. Little had his wife known that Chris had retired wrestling for her and their kids, only for him to come back home and find another man in the bed they shared countless times.

He used his time off to continue endeavors with his band and other things which tickled his fancy. He did everything he could to keep his mind off of two things: his divorce and wrestling. He had given up his great love to stay with the second… and in the end was left with neither. But a shinning beacon of hope had cast its warm glow upon him. Vince himself had asked Christopher to come back, finding that even he found the RAW line-up a bit boring and stale without an A-Lister from the Attitude Era.

Chris whole-heartedly accepted.

And that was why he was in said hotel room at all, alone and still bitter, even after all this time. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, correct? Alas, the case was not so… yet.


	2. Kudos

**A/N:** While I was a little saddened by no reviews, I understand that the lack of interaction between Y2J and Trish might've left people a little disheartened. Originally, this chapter wasn't going to have them reunite, but I figured: "Give the people what they want". PLEASE review, hell, even a flame is nice once in a while. Ah, one more thing: I don't own any part of the WWE. Although I must say, I do wish I owned Chris…

I leave you to your reading! ;)

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**Kudos**

Sitting up in bed and stretching her arms over her head, a buxom blonde had just awakened from a very comfortable night's sleep. Patricia did always like hotel beds. No matter where you went, they were always the same: covered in crisp white sheets and comfortable. She had become so used to hotel beds that once she had retired from wrestling, she found it difficult to sleep in her own bed every night. Of course, her husband Josh had made things easier but, to this day, nothing beat a good night's sleep in a hotel room bed. She was sure of it.

It was still early, she duly noted, and wondered if the little restaurant near the lobby of the hotel would even be open yet. Trish figured she should play her cards and make her way down there all the same. Dressing in a pair of denim jeans and a light blue polo, she merely slipped on the first pair of flip-flops she found and quickly brushed some mascara into her already long lashes; she dabbed some lip-gloss on her lips and she was finally ready to head downstairs.

It was frightfully quiet in the hotel and the dim glow of morning shone through deep red curtains as she passed through the lobby. Trish was surprised by the lack of activity. It was already 8:04am, and she half expected to see some wrestlers ready to head out to the airport. Perhaps she was just as early riser and expected too much from the guys. They had after all spent the night before being thrown about and slammed for the cameras. She smiled to herself and wondered why she had decided to this… again.

Correction: She knew exactly why she was doing this again.

Wrestling was like a drug and every time Trish came back for a brief appearance, she felt that itch that needed to be scratched. Only gone for two years, she felt she could not go on another day without hearing the fans, going through the motions of rehearsals, or anxiously waiting to get the next script. There were plenty of these 'so-called' Divas who were in the WWE simply because it was a nice story to tell their kids someday. Trish on the other hand did it because she loved it. She loved to wrestle and she loved to make the fans happy.

That was why the night before; Trish had signed her life away for four more years to the WWE. And what's more, she did it with a beaming smile and a huge thanks to the McMahon's. She wouldn't be active just yet, mind you, but she was already going to go through the motions she had grown fond of. Her husband Josh had been a bit disheartened to know his wife would be away once again… but he'd live, he told her. It was sweet how much support she had from her husband, and she believed it was proof that if there's enough love and effort, relationships between wrestlers had with non-wrestlers could work. She and Josh attested to that, and Trish proudly proclaimed it whenever she could.

At the moment though, Trish had her mind on getting breakfast. It wasn't long before Trish became aware that the charming little restaurant was in fact closed but would open in a half hour. Staring at the small sign pinned to the accordion-shutter doors, she was faced with a choice. Either she could spend five minutes getting to her room, ten flipping through channels, and then five more to get back down… or… she could merely wait patiently for it to open. Deciding that the latter was a more prudent decision, Trish shuffled over to where a make-shift lounge was smack dab in the middle of the lobby.

Sitting down in a rich leather loveseat, Trish smiled cutely and wiggled in her seat a bit. The seat was oddly throne-like and while she kept her composure seeing as the front desk was rather close-by, she had the urge to pose dramatically ala 'King of the Ring' photo shoots. She was unaware of her surroundings as she closed her eyes and sighed peacefully. It was quiet and relatively calm. She could hear shuffling around in the restaurant behind her and she knew that the staff was busy getting everything ready for when they opened.

The elevator dinged and she opened her eyes to see who it was. She half expected it to be someone she knew: Perhaps Adam or Jay, maybe Paul; better yet, Maria or Mickie. Instead a very serious looking man she had never met exited the elevator with a briefcase in hand. He seemed to be in a rush. Trish watched him briskly walk past her and quickly check out. Once outside the hotel itself, she heard the faint jingle of a cell phone and knew he was possibly late for a business meeting.

All of these little nothings lulled Trish into zoning out, her beautiful hazel eyes open but unfocused. Her through ran to her husband back home, to her dog, to her house…

"Trish?" a deep velvet voice sounded and she quickly snapped out of her reverie. Focusing on who was before her, she quickly looked up to see a blinding smile and gorgeous blue eyes.

"Chris!" she answered happily. Getting to her feet she closed the gap between them and gave him a friendly hug, once which he received and returned softly. Pulling away from each other she smiled at him and just sort stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Chris did much the same, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and licking his lips to merely do something, anything.

It should be noted that although they had participated in a storyline or two, they had never really gotten to know too much about each other. They were courteous and friendly to each other, making small talk backstage, but they had never stricken up much of a friendship. They were politely acquainted and had kissed on camera. Such was the extent of their relationship to date.

"So, is it a coincidence you're here, or is there something I don't know?" Chris questioned with a smirk. He had obviously heard nothing of Trish getting contracted once again and felt out of the loop suddenly.

Trish sent him a light chuckle and settled into her thro- seat, once again. Sitting in an ornate chair sans armrests, Chris leaned back and motioned for her to continue. She was not going to just giggle her way out of answering a question. He liked his questions answered, no matter how at ease and playful he might seem.

"Well," she started. "It's sort of like what happened to you. I just wanted to come back, you know? Once you get bit by the wrestling bug it's hard not to scratch," she finished. It was the short version of a story which could include hours of Trish just talking about how much she loved the WWE. Obviously, Trish was not going to torture him with her ramblings.

Jericho, as he was called by so many, would not have minded in the least listening to her talk for hours. She was a gorgeous woman who just happened to love his very same passion. She was smart at that. Plenty of other Diva's held the same qualities (he liked to think), so to say that Trish was anything special was stretching the imagination a tad too far. But he had to admit, there was a certain charm about her. Apart from her stunning beauty there was something just elementally perfect about her. He contented himself with chit-chatting now and again.

Chris had not pursued her those years when they were on the same roster because she was, and still seemed to be, a happily married woman. He gave her her space, and he respected her for doing the right thing and remaining faithful to her husband. How did he know this? Well, in the locker rooms no detail was ever spared and no story went untold. Chris himself had partaken in a couple escapades already and did what all of them did and spill it to all the boys.

It was those damn Divas and various other women backstage. They threw themselves at them and then expected to be valued. Chris liked very few of those women (as people, mind you) and respected even less. How could he even consider one of them as girlfriend material when they had screwed half the Smack Down roster and were making it up the ranks on RAW's? No. Chris didn't 'fly' that way.

Kudos to Trish for not being a slut.

"That's awesome. Really great…" he trailed off with a smile. He nodded his head and fell into silence, just sort of looking at her when a thought occurred to him. His face lit up, and Trish found herself noticing how attractive Christopher really was. But ha, guys like him were heart breakers, she told herself fondly. She ought to know, she married one.

"What roster did you get signed on to?" she heard him ask.

"RAW," she answered simply and noticed as Chris's smile grew. That smile was easily 1,000 volts and Trish found it contagious. "What? Why that smile?" she questioned with a confused grin.

"Well, I'm on RAW-," he said with a smirk, his chin tilting up slightly in an unconscious gesture. His characters' superiority complex had rubbed off on him a bit and the mannerisms as well. There was more Heel Chris in him than ever before and he wasn't too sure how he felt about turning Face, eventually. He had just gotten used to being the token douche-bag. "-the best brand obviously," he ended with a playful wink.

The two continued to talk and joke about, until Trish mentioned that the restaurant had opened. She was starving and asked him if he wanted to join her and finish their conversation. Jericho regrettably informed her that he had already eaten and was ready to check out when he had been side-tracked at the sight of her.

The pair of blondes exchanged goodbyes; a parting joke about finally getting what she deserved, an ass kicking at the hands of Beth Phoenix, was thrown at her. They parted ways soon after.

Trish did not have to eat alone, though. Soon enough, more than a handful of wrestlers had had the same idea of having an early breakfast and it was no time till they had all but cheered for Trish Stratus and her big comeback.

Everything was going her way, and there was no sign of complications on the horizon, she thought to herself.

**

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**A/N… again:** I know things seem a little slow, but they'll pick up. I just wanted to have a nice set up for you guys. Once again, please review! Without them I kind of feel like I'm writing for no one at all…


	3. Night Full of Interruptions

**A/N:** First off, thank you so much to my reviewers: DarkAngelElektra, TrishOrton, and Carly . You guys are awesome for taking the time out to do that. Also, I got an e-mail asking me what said time-line is for this… I don't really know to tell you the truth. As a matter of fact, it doesn't have one. Imagine these events as _pending_ in the actual WWE universe.

I leave you to your reading! ;)

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**Night Full of Interruptions**

John Cena's eyes were wide in horror and his fists pounded into Stephanie McMahon's desk angrily. "What?" his voice thundered in the general managers' office. One of his hands moved up to adjust his signature cap anxiously. His chest rose and fell heavily, as if each breath pained him. Stephanie on the other hand, was calm and collected though for a moment Cena's outburst had startled her visibly.

Stephanie raised a perfectly groomed brow and did not stir in her seat from behind the table. "I'm sorry John I really I am," her voice barely conveyed remorse. "But in the end it wasn't my decision. I fought for you, I really did. You're an asset to the Raw brand, but in the end my father has the final say…" she trialed off and shrugged her shoulders slightly. Heaving a heavy sigh she continued, cutting off Cena who had already opened his mouth to speak.

"I know what you're going to say. It has nothing to do with the fact the fact that you're moving to SmackDown, but the fact that you have to relinquish your World Heavyweight Title-"

The arena shook with the roar of an outraged crowd. Boo's and chants of 'Cena!' flooded every corner of the Continental Airlines Arena in East Rutherford, New jersey. Stephanie had paused to let the crowd have their moment before she began again. "I wish I didn't have to strip you of your title, but there is no way SmackDown is going to hold both the WWE Title and the World Heavyweight Title." She could see John was searching for a rebuttal but she put her hand up to silence him. "The only thing I can do for you is let you choose the two men who will wrestle for your title… next week on Raw." Her last words punctured the air and John, having left his beloved title belt draped over the armrest of a chair, stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. That was that.

The cameras turned off and John walked back into the room. Stephanie laughed as Cena reentered and moved to take hold of the table and shaking it slightly, checked for any damage.

"I swear, John, I thought that table was going to break," her face was bright and her characters cold demeanor was broken. John's façade was much the same as his boss's. The anger and disappointment which had been moments before written all over his face had disappeared and he was jovially still making sure the table was in sound condition.

The cameras were elsewhere now, and the show was continuing; the superstars were all in their kayfabe glory. But in the Raw general manager's office everything was as it was behind the scenes. Cena wasn't really mad at Steph for moving him to SmackDown and had known about this for a while now, it was all for the fans and the cameras.

Although it seems easy enough, plenty of work from both the Superstars and the writers goes into a good and even a not so good story-line. To freshen things up, Cena, the current cash-cow, was being sent over to SmackDown which had gotten the shorter straw after the draft… which was another fallacy. Again though, it was all for the sake of the fans. If any of them wanted to see actual fighting and no 'twist-and-turn' storyline, they'd be watching a UFC fight… what was the fun in that? In fact, Stephanie found it borderline barbaric. At the very least with the WWE, entertainment would ensue whether you liked X fighter or not, because there was a huge roster ready in the wake to be the next big thing.

"Well John, I've got to prepare for my next promo, so if you don't mind…" she trailed off and nodded to the door, finally getting back into GM mode.

With a dry-- but sincere-- smile, Cena exited the room to go make sure he was on task for the night's transgressions.

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In his designated dressing room was Chris Irvine dressed in a black suit, a powder blue dress shirt underneath. He sat upon the ever-present bench and let his head hang low. He was slowly slipping into character. Christopher, the man outside the ring, was slowly being locked behind a prison cell by his alter ego, Jericho. Jericho was the man who eyed everyone with derision and thrived off of power. His ambition had no limits and his arrogance had no bounds.

Slowly, Chris had come to love his in-ring persona. It was easy to make a crowd love you. With enough of a push from the production team and the McMahon's, anyone could be cheered. Give a nice guy a belt and like Pavlov's test subjects, audiences salivated at the sound of said superstars' entrance theme. But to make an entire viewership loathe you was another story all together. If you were simply disliked, you and your character were thrown to the wayside and almost ignored by fans. But to create real heat, well it took someone like Chris Jericho, if he did say so himself. At the moment though, his musings were cut short by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He'd get into character sooner or later, he presumed.

Righting himself, he was met by a familiar face peaking into the space left by his slightly ajar door. Hazel eyes smiled at him and lush blonde locks framed a stunningly beautiful face. Chris couldn't help but crack a grin.

"It's polite to knock, Trish," Jericho spoke in a light tone, but the smirk was not far from the corners of his lips.

"I know," the female blonde started casually. "But I have some notes fresh from the writers," she added with a mirthful chuckle. "Looks like we're at it again." Still not having been invited inside, she opened the door further and stood at its threshold. An arm outstretched, Trish held in her hand what looked to be between three or four sheets of printed paper.

He beckoned her inside and she obliged quietly. Extending the small stack of papers his way, Chris took them and thanked her with a silent nod. For the time being, Trish contented herself with the silence between them. There was a slight air of awkwardness but she seemed to be its only causality.

Chris read with what seemed to be frightening speed and Trish enjoyed watching him drink up the words. His blue eyes were narrowed ever so slightly in concentration and a tiny little crease formed between his brows. She couldn't help but let out a stray chuckle, one which he didn't seem to notice.

He was absolutely adorable, she concluded.

But as her analysis of his little idiosyncrasies continued she found herself relaxing as she took in his features more seriously. There was nothing 'pretty' about him, but there was this undeniably endearing quality to his face. The planes and angles were all masculine but none were too sharp or too harsh. His downcast eyes only allowed a slight shadow of his blue hues behind his blonde lashes. As if on cue, Chris licked his lips briefly as he turned a page nonchalantly. Trish's eyes automatically moved to his mouth and she found herself _knowing _she would be hard pressed to find a woman who didn't fall prey to his killer smirks. Letting her eyes flicker further she took in the sight of his formal dress. The man could wear a suit, and his body seemed perfect for its European cut. Strong shoulders and back, she stopped herself there. It was one thing to analyze his looks, it was quite another to ogle him.

All of this took place over the course of a couple moments. But it would be pivotal in hindsight.

"You don't have to read it all now, you know that right?" she heard her voice strained and it almost foreign to her. Her inspection of 'Y2J' had perhaps left her a bit flustered, but nothing she couldn't brush off. She understood that a certain sort of attraction to any man was feasible; she just had to stay at an arms distance. She was well aware of how many good-looking men pranced around the WWE in what in essence was spandex underwear. Trish had grown used to seeing them and merely viewing them through the eyes of a spectator, one who would never partake in the actual sport.

Her character might have jumped from one man to another, but Trish outside of the ring was a loyal and loving wife, who had the misfortune of being surrounded by the barely clothed men aforementioned. It was unfortunate simply because she didn't have _her_ man with her to satisfy any needs that might boil up inside of her. Of course though, trips home and visits from Josh would sate her for some time… only to have the cycle begin again.

His attention sparked back up to Trish upon hearing her voice and a smile replaced his usual clever-looking grin. "I'm aware," he said simply and eyed the last sheet in his hand. "For about three and a half pages of writing, there's practically nothing here," he said with a scoff. "Just another vacant plot about arm candy- not that I mind," he added with an obviously playful and innocent wink.

The only blond female in the room chuckled awkwardly and clasped her arms behind her back, eyeing him. She hadn't really been able to get a good read on him yet. Years back, when they had done 'The Bet' angle, their interaction had been limited to that of on screen. Chris always seemed to focus on her when the cameras were on, when it was time to put on a show, but other than that he seemed to want to retain a working relationship which teetered on friendly and basically indifferent.

He didn't seem that way now and she was a bit surprised by the change. He seemed a bit haughtier, yes, but if it made any sense, much nicer. Civility was often cold, and it was nice knowing he was making an effort to befriend her. Being a naturally sociable person, Trish took it as an invitation to perhaps pester him in the future for the hell of it, strike up a friendship like that of other superstars.

Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the smooth velvet voice she was growing accustomed to hearing, no matter that this was only their second meeting in years.

"I'm already involved with the whole Cena leaving Raw business, so this is either going to go nowhere, or segway into another romance angle for us," he said glancing down at the stack of printed notes. "It says here we're free to 'bring back past elements' so I'm guessing we aren't supposed to be the best of friends in the beginning." Somehow, looking down at the generic computer typeface, very few important points were made; most of it was filler

Apparently for her comeback match in two weeks, Trish would face-- surprise-- Beth Phoenix. Beth would get the win, but to push for a more serious Heel, Santino would help Beth in attacking Trish. Who else to come rescue the damsel in distress but the man who had at one time, kayfabe, fallen in love with her?

Jericho found it to be a little out of character but seeing as creative wanted him to turn Face, what better way to do it than to come to the aide of the most popular Diva ever? It was pretty much the gist of what would happen, and then… blank. They would either receive some more notes or have to help creative themselves as many superstars often did. They were mindful and respectful toward the crew behind the scenes but were fully aware that they often needed to help get their character over a slump or even just out of a crappy storyline.

"Well, I know I interrupted you while you were getting in the _zone_ and everything," her head swayed slightly and Trish's eyes grew wide momentarily. Jericho was aware she was mocking him and all he could do was laugh and wave her off playfully. "And we can talk about our storyline some other time when you're not _busy_…" with a giggle she parted and left without a verbal goodbye.

Chris watched her turn and leave, his eyes sweeping over her form briefly before the door shut behind the Diva. That Josh was one lucky bastard…

For now, Chris wasn't too preoccupied with his plot with Trish because he was more so focused on the whole Cena leaving business. SmackDown's dire need of more main-eventers had meant a main-eventer from Raw would get 'surplused'. For some time, Chris had thought he would be it. It wouldn't have bothered him too much, but he was much to used to knowing that 'Raw was and is Jericho'. Sending him to SmackDown was like making James Bond an American… it just wouldn't work.

Thankfully, Cena was the one who would push SmackDown and hopefully boost ratings. This would be no trouble for the, soon to be, former champ. But this also meant that someone else on Raw would get the belt. While no news was given to him as to who else would be partaking in the drama to ensue, Chris was already hinted as to being a key-player.

That was all he wanted.

Chris didn't need to win the belt, he just wanted to be there and know he played a part in WWE history. His love for the business was one which was more than just a little unselfish. Obviously, his personality and passion had let him become The First _Ever_ Undisputed Champion, along with the several other title reigns and accolades.

Of course, such dedication to ones craft didn't come without a price. His marriage had been payment, and now this was all he had. Not one to wallow in self pity though, Chris stood up after a couple moments of indecision and decided to mingle with the crew and wrestlers. He didn't have much to do until near the end of the show, so for now he had time to kill.

* * *

After leaving Chris's locker room, Trish Stratus was pleased to hear that her being backstage had not reached the fans out in the arena or a glitch in a camera had caught her cavorting around out of character. Her debut in two weeks was something Trish had been looking forward to since she had re-signed with the WWE, and she wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Behaving like an excited teen rather than a seasoned adult, she could barely wait to make it back to the ring. Sure, her first night out would end in defeat but she had the pleasure of getting saved by one of the biggest superstars on Raw. Chris Frikken Jericho.

It was one thing to be arm candy for a mid-carder and be filler, it was quite another to have a romantic angle with someone who was carrying the show. It obviously didn't hurt that she had been stuck with someone like Chris. He was a nice guy, a dedicated guy, and an attractive guy. She was sure other Divas would've done unspeakable things to get a storyline like that. She was Trish Stratus and she was considered by many the best Diva, post Attitude Era. She had paid her dues, and in thanks for coming back to a lacking female roster, was awarded a storyline which would hopefully turn into something interesting.

Upon arriving to her desired destination, the women's locker room, she entered it in what could only be described as a chipper mood. Inside were the various Raw Divas in different levels of undress. There was no bad blood between any of the Divas but it was obvious that like High School, it was a bit clique-y. Beth Phoenix, Layla, and Melina were on one side chatting it up and helping each other pull laces, hook straps, and zip up tops. On the opposite side, were Kelly Kelly, Mickie James, Candice Michelle, and Jillian. A couple faces turned to see who had walked in and she was met with smiles and murmurs of 'good to see you' and 'what's up'. Stepping in further, Trish took a seat closer to the Beth posse.

"I'm assuming you got some notes for my debut?" No use in circling the topic, Trish figured. Beth's face was passive; she was obviously not in promo mode, trying to intimidate an opponent.

A much nicer person than people gave her credit for, Beth smiled and nodded. Unlike her character, Mrs. Phoenix wasn't some mean hearted individual with only the Women's Championship on her mind, and she certainly wasn't dating Santino. "Yeah, you get your ass kicked," she said with a chuckle, adjusting the bust area of her ring attire.

Soft laughter followed, and Trish took part in it as well. She wasn't above laughing at her personas demise on her debut.

"You're not going to take my belt that easy," Beth added with a smirk. "Not that you should be complaining seeing as whose going to save you from Anthony, anyway." Anthony was of course Santino. At the Glamazon's mysterious response the other Divas were suddenly curious.

Kelly, with a mischievous grin hopped over with one boot in hand and the other dragging its laces upon the concrete floor. "Trish Stratus saved by someone?" Looking over at the women she had left on the other side of the room, they all looked just as interested as she was. "Who is this savior?"

At the 'savior' reference, Trish laughed she received odd looks from the women in the locker room. "The answer is the code," she added, not being able to help herself and point out yet another reference. For a moment, her laughter died down and she was suddenly aware that she had remembered a rather insignificant detail from Jericho's return to Raw… It was merely a random statement on the Titantron before the man of the hour had arrived.

The only Diva that got the second reference right off the bat was Layla and she let out what could be considered a squee. "Chris Jericho?" A wide spread over the Brit's face and she licked her lips briefly. "Good job," she added with a nod.

"If I had to choose someone to save me, Chris would be near the top of my list," Mickie James piped up. "He's hot and he knows where to draw the line between a storyline and real life," she elaborated.

"But more importantly, he's _hot_," Melina said under her breath, but was heard nonetheless. There were murmurs of approbation from all the women. Trish had never been aware that Jericho was considered eye candy to these women. They were usually falling over themselves for Randy, John, and Big Dave. It seemed like the title of Sexy Beast was deserved. Not that Trish was arguing said point…

"Now, now girls. Control your selves," Trish said wagging a finger in mock disproval. "I'm a married woman and Chris is a colleague."

Trish heard a scoff behind her and turned to see who was guilty. She couldn't pin-point the source of said sound and brushed it off. "Anyway there isn't much more to the storyline, creative is still trying to figure out stuff for us to do."

"I know what you-"

"Don't even start," Trish cut off Candice with a chuckle.

You'd think these women had never heard of a business relationship… or a faithful marriage.

* * *

It wasn't until the end of that night's tapping that anything of real importance happened. It was time for Cena to announce who would be the competitors that would vie for his cherished World Heavyweight Championship title. Making his entrance, fans jumped to their feet and cheered as if he were the very messiah. Saluting the fans that made him the star he was today, John made his way down the ramp with a face grave and saddened. Inside the ring, he did his usual little ditty but there was obviously more emotion in it than usual.

John Cena could sell 'goodbye' rather well, no matter he was just switching brands.

Lillian Garcia, who had been near ringside, handed John a microphone so he could direct his attention to the GM behind the scenes, the fans, and the superstars. He smiled internally as he became duly aware that he had not really thought of what to say. He had already been told by production who he was supposed to choose, but had only been directed to be as dramatic as possible. Maybe he should've been better prepared? Alas, it was too late now.

The crowd seemed to grow listless and some of the more obnoxious fans were already trying to start a chant of 'Cena Sucks!' So far, their attempts were for naught. Finally, the man of the hour spoke up:

"I tried you guys, I really did. But it just wasn't enough. I'm sure you all have bosses and when your job is on the line, you've got to do what you've got to do."

It should come as no surprise that Cena was getting boo's from the crowd. They couldn't understand how their champ could possibly let himself be bartered off in exchange for nothing.

"You guys know and I know that going to SmackDown isn't the end the end of the world… My belt though… it has to stay here-" Cut off by more boo's, he didn't allow the spectators a moment to settle down, instead he pushed forward with his little 'on-the-fly' monologue.

"There's nothing I can say that will change my fate, so I'll just get down to the nitty-gritty."

With a melodramatic sigh, he licked his lips and rubbed the back of his head,

"The two contenders who will be fighting for my belt next week are…"

Before Cena could finish his announcement loud familiar music came over the speakers. 'Break The Walls Down' thundered in the arena and a strange mix of cheers and boo's sounded along with the pounding beats of said song. Chris Jericho walked down the ramp with his signature scowl upon his lips. Furrowed brows only accentuated the bitterness of his character. Half-way down the ramp, his well dressed form stopped and he brought to his mouth a microphone he had carried with him.

"I don't mean to interrupt-" Chris cut himself off with a short scoff "- Well, I do, but that's beside the point." More boo's than cheers were heard at this point, and Jericho internally relished in how much heat he could muster up from a crowd. "You see, _I_ should be the second name you utter to this ignorant crowd and that equally ignorant Stephanie McMahon." Always antagonizing the GM, the character of Jericho would one day get a taste of his own medicine… but not today.

"Chris, I'm going to choose whoever I want to," Cena said passionately, slapping chest to reiterate the ardor of his character, hearing the fans back him up with fervent cheers of 'Cena, Cena!'

Raising a single brow, Chris nodded and squared his body, defying Cena's words with his posture. A true performer, Chris understood the psychology of his craft to the T. "You sure you're going to make the right decision?" he countered. "You say you love these fans," Jericho scoffed one more time and glanced at his side briefly to counter a fans jeer with a glare. Again, the art of being a good Heel. "Then don't they deserve the best?"

A slightly confused look came over John's face and moved to lean on the ropes facing Chris. He said nothing.

With a satisfied grin, Chris continued. "Instead of choosing a couple of your buddies, why don't you choose someone who can carry the belt with pride, a true champion? A guy who can give the fans exactly what they deserve. A guy, well, a guy like me." He ended on a high note and had the inkling of a smile, but it was much too sinister to be considered one.

Her music had not come on, so it was a surprise to everyone when Stephanie McMahon came out with microphone in hand. "No, no, no, Jericho." Unlike John and Chris who had pretty much improvised their speeches, Steph had hers memorized. She felt she worked best with a script. "This doesn't concern you, Chris. Now why don't you go backstage and whine to someone else."

The crowd seemed to agree with the GM and John, still in the ring, nodded his approval.

Chris narrowed his eyes at Stephanie who stood beside him and his lip curled into a sneer. "Don't you have some superstars to fu-"

Yet another interruption sounded as 'Voices' came over the sound system. Chris rolled his eyes and buried his fingers into his short blonde hair. An exasperated John Cena paced in the ring, wanting the evening to end already.

Making his entrance, Randy Orton, dressed formally much like Chris, stopped right at the top of the entrance. Opening his mouth to speak, Stephanie wanted nothing of it.

"Orton and Jericho, get out! This-" he motioned to John and herself angrily "-doesn't concern either of you!"

Already seething, Randy spoke into the microphone, his tone knotted tight as if he would snap at any moment. "But you're wrong, Stephanie. This does concern us. Chris and I, if anything, are the only two qualified superstars on this roster to fight for that belt."

"I agree," piped up Jericho, nodding over at Orton in a 'you're right', type way.

"Well I don't care what you boys want," Steph interjected, walking toward the ring and eventually into it. "As GM, I'm giving John the authority to choose who he wants to fight for the World Heavyweight Championship. So the both of you can go back to-"

It truly was a night full of interruptions.

"You're going to give up a chance to change WWE history to keep a surplused wrestler happy?" chuckled Chris, his face amused and cruel. "You really are a sorry GM." Turning his back to the holy pair inside the ring, he knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them spoke up.

"And exactly what would you do, Chris?" Cena took the bait like a fish eyeing a worm on a hook.

Randy who had been quiet, waiting for the right moment to talk was still watching the situation with apprehensive eyes. "Now, Chris…" Randy trialed off, eyeing the only man he ever seemed to agree on anything with.

"Don't worry, this'll be good for both of us," assured Y2J, dismissing the Legend Killer with a wave of his hand. "Why not just have John's first pick fight Randy… Have John's second pick fight me… And whoever wins those matches will battle it out for the title."

A curious look came over Stephanie's face and it was obviously making John anxious. Keeping the microphone away from his mouth, John was muttering nervously into Steph's ear. It was obvious the soon to be former champ was trying to talk the GM out of her decision.

The crowd was growing impatient and the rumble of dissatisfaction was audible. Dropping her mic to her side she turned to counter whatever Cena was saying. After a couple moments of this, Stephanie turned back to the pair of Heels who were awaiting patiently the course of their futures. John, with his head hung low, sighed and had obviously lost the argument with his boss.

"Alright. Randy you will be fighting… CM Punk for the chance at the title belt!" Fans in every corner of the arena cheered for the Straight Edge superstar. As well they should.

"And you, Jericho will be fighting Rey Mysterio!" Once again, an electric jolt shot up through the spines of every fan in the vicinity.

It was obvious why the character of John Cena had chosen Punk and Rey as contenders for the belt. Both were 'good guys' with work ethic and heart. But those two against the biggest Heels on Raw would be quite interesting. The ultimate evil against the ultimate good.

Jericho's theme blared through the speakers and with a small nod in thanks to Stephanie McMahon, made his exit, Orton on his heels after a reptilian smirk sent to Cena who was obviously perturbed by the night's events.

The camera's shut off and such ended that taping of Raw: With Chris Jericho's music and John Cena's frowning fare well.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you liked this chapter, please R&R! Oh, and this chapter was about half-way on Jan 12th which means any details pertaining to Jericho's plot in the WWE from then on will play no part in this fic.


	4. Oh, Randal!

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, life got a little busy… Oh dear, DarkAngelElektra, your review meant so much to me! To the rest of you who didn't take the time to leave a review… shame on you! Hehe. Just wanted to reiterate the fact I own no portion of the WWE. Don't sue me, Vince!

I leave you to your reading! ;)

* * *

**'Oh, Randal!'**

Early on in the night at the club, Cena had gotten the gist of the evening when Chris Irvine deiced to formally start the festivities with a toast: "To John, whose sorry ass will not be missed!"

An impromptu 'going away' party was held for John Cena the very same night of his live televised farewell from the Raw brand. A rather large group of wrestlers had dragged John to a rather mellow club and spent the night drinking. Taking an indecent amount of pleasure in embarrassing the hell out of each other and of ogling any woman who might wander by, the boys all used John's leaving Raw as an excuse to act like drunken teenage boys. The next day would be an 'off' day, but would likely be spent on the road because a house show was scheduled later in the week. Nevertheless, they all relished in the fact that the following morning they would not necessarily have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn.

Throughout the night, some guys left for their hotel rooms and some found pleasure in the beds of women they had courted on the dance floor. Chris was the former. This wasn't to say he had become celibate and bitter, but he simply didn't see anything that had particularly caught his attention. A ring rat here a ring rat there, and a couple girls who looked barely legal and not old enough to drink… he was disinterested for the time being. He wasn't above sleeping with either type, mind you, but Chris had ended the night on a high note. He simply wasn't in the mood to wake up the next morning and awkwardly tell a woman he had to leave for the next city… leaving her a naked lump wrapped in white sheets.

It was one of those nights where a shower and sleep was all that could possibly make Chris any happier. Eyeing his watch in the back of a taxi cab, he noted his vision was impaired and, by proxy, his judgment. He internally patted himself on the back for being responsible; having decided earlier that evening that taking a car to the club would mean he would have to drive back. It would not have been the best decision.

His eyes moved out to look at the relatively rural landscape. In the distance though; he could see that dazzling halo of light from the downtown area of Rutherford. His slightly hazed mind drifted and he scoffed, to think he at one point had been dirt broke and wrestling in Mexico. Now, there he was sitting in the backseat of a cab dressed in designer labels on his way to sleeping in a cool, clean, and safe hotel room. The safety of it all lulled him into thinking he had everything he could possibly want…

But such was not the case. Though a man who pitied himself was far from attractive, he knew there was something missing in his life. He was happy, but he didn't feel complete. There was something missing. His thoughts wandered back to his ex wife and a tight scowl overcame his usually relaxed features. Chris's hands balled into fists and his chest rose dramatically as he huffed away a sigh. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath and he was bothered suddenly by everything around him. The beautiful night sky, the bright lights whooshing past his window, and even the color of the seat he was upon. He was irked by everything because he had no outlet for his anger; not at the moment at least.

What had he done wrong? He asked himself. He had promised Jessica the world… wasn't it the thought that counted, no matter the fact that he hadn't succeeded? Why hadn't she understood that wrestling was his passion? Why hadn't she told him how she felt? Instead of talking to him, she made the decision to move on without him even knowing.

"Stupid bitch," he muttered to himself. His hand came to rub his face and he leaned back in the chair, letting himself sink into it.

Chris didn't want to be that pathetic man who forever lived in the past, but he couldn't help missing the feeling of a warm body he _loved_ curled up against him. There were, of course, times when his carnal desires needed to be sated. It was not hard for him to find a suitable woman to fulfill his physical wants. In the end though, it was just a good fuck which could be easily forgotten when the next came (no pun intended).

He had known what love was and after feeling the great disappointment of losing it, he was well aware of what he was missing. Alas though, there was nothing he could do about it and his loss certainly didn't perturb him as much as you might expect… In fact, he was angry more than depressed. In the end, it was Jessica's loss and one day she'd beg to have him back.

With a chuckle to himself, he noticed all of these melodramatic thoughts came to him after a long day or one too many drinks.

It was around this time that the cab came to a stop at the hotel's cul-de-sac. Paying for the fare, Chris exited without a wayward glance back at the vehicle which had delivered him from the club safely.

Once up in his room, Chris quickly stripped and took a long hot shower, leaning on the wall beside him and letting the searing liquid trail down his form. He stood there easily for almost half an hour before exiting and dressing himself in a pair of boxers. Collapsing on the cold bed, he didn't bother to move under the covers. The alcohol had done its job perfectly, and Christopher dozed in a matter of moments.

* * *

Trish had heard about that little get together at a local club for John, but she had decided not to go. She hadn't really wanted to partake because as far as she knew it was more of a thing for the guys. A couple of the other Divas, Candice, Melina, and Layla had gone and tried to get Trish out for the night. Declining politely, she opted to stay in her room. Ordering room service, she ate some fruit, watched a movie and then proceeded to check her e-mails on her laptop. It was a bit boring, yes, but she kept herself away from any situation which could lead to temptation. A sweet woman, it was a quality that often had people confusing her for a good girl. While Trish was far from some sex fiend, she was aware of what desire could lead to.

She loved her husband and there was nothing in this world that would change that, but she was aware that the flesh was weak. She had only been on the road with the WWE again for about three weeks and was still trying to see if the backstage dynamics had changed since she had left. So far, she had come to one conclusion. Whether those men were married or not, they were a temptation and temptation was around every corner.

With her mint-colored silk teddy hidden beneath a black silk robe tightly wrapped around her form, Trish opened her hotel room door curiously. Peeking her head outside, she could hear thunderous steps and the high pitched screams of a woman. She grew nervous about the source of those sounds and clutched the edge of her door; eyeing the empty hall to her left as she was sure whatever was happening would come into view soon. Before she could jump to conclusions she became aware that the woman's screams were laced with laughter. As this realization hit her, she noticed she actually _knew _that voice.

Running round the corner and into sight, was Barbara, or Kelly Kelly as she was publicly known. She had been that screaming woman and behind her was the large form of Randy Orton, playfully trying to catch her. His were those thundering running steps she had heard.

Rolling her eyes, Trish was about to close the door and get back to… nothing, when she felt herself slightly drawn to the sight of Randy finally grabbing hold of 'Kelly's ' arm. Pulling her to him, his hand gripped the back of her head and he leaned down to take her mouth with furious passion. Accepting his advances, Kelly wrapped her arms around Orton's neck. Pulling him with her, Kelly pressed herself against the opposite wall. Trish had become a hidden voyeur and was slightly ashamed to be invading on what could've been something intimate… But, by God, they should get a room.

Right across from Trish's door, the shameless duo were making quite the scene. Trish hadn't been spotted and doubted she would at this point. The attractive pair was busy pressed up against each other and hungrily groping and kissing. She could hear their heavy breathing from across the hall and the little giggles 'Kelly' was emitting. They obviously had no decency or were just too drunk to notice they were in a hotel hallway.

What happened next though would make Trish's night. A door that just happened to be right beside the passionate couple was flung open. Chris Irvine, with a scowl to rival that of his persona's, stuck his head out and barked, "Barbara is a cock tease, and she's not going to fuck you, Randy… And Bab's, if you are going to ever have sex with anyone, please refrain from doing it outside of my door. My head is killing me and if I have to hear 'oh, Randal!'—" he mocked Barbara's high pitched voice and without finishing his sentence, slammed his door shut with a sharp boom.

Untangling herself from him, Kelly emitted what could be described as a nervous laugh and eyed Randy with an apologetic look. Orton understood the look on her face and frowned dramatically… She really wasn't going to give it up, at least not to him and not tonight. Huffing away from the petite blonde, he muttered something that neither 'Kelly' nor Trish could catch. Walking in the opposite direction, Kelly adjusted her sparse sleeping attire and shuffled off to perhaps reflect on whether Chris had been right about her being a tease, or was just lashing out… They were after all making quite a lot of commotion outside his door… and for about a half-hour earlier right above his room, stomping around and making plenty of noise.

There was an unearthly quiet in the dimly lit hallway now and Trish was expecting some dramatic music to blast through invisible speakers in the way it happened in movies all the time. Obviously this did not occur and Trish softly let her door shut, no sound being emitted simply because it had been open barely an inch to begin with.

Pressing her back against the shut door Trish let out slightly mirthful sigh. Randy and Kelly were going to be the death of each other… and Randy's marriage. Trish wasn't judging. She was simply making an observation. She couldn't blame them either. They were both attractive and rather magnetic individuals. When you really knew them, they were hard to dislike.

Her thoughts then focused on Chris and she had to keep from smiling. Although he had been visibly piqued he had nonetheless been amusing. Even angry, he was the most charismatic individual she had ever known. Replaying his mock of Barbara's voice in her head, Trish let out a small chuckle. Pushing herself away from the door she moved to rummage through her purse on a nearby chair for a couple of aspirins. She had noticed his statement about a headache, and she figured he might be in a need of them.

Obviously, being a wrestler, the chances of Chris not having a couple of aspirins on him was slim. But oddly enough, Trish only thought of helping him, and not whether he would actually need it.

Keeping her room key in one hand and the aspirins in the other, Trish left her room and crossed the small distance between her door and Chris's. She found it amusing that so many superstars had decided to stay in the same hotel, and that by chance, she had gotten a room right across from one.

Rapping softly on the door, she shifted her weight nervously. She wasn't sure how he would receive another disturbance, but she did bring a peace offering. For a moment, in the starkly quiet hallway she could've sworn she heard Chris curse inside his room. She could've possibly imagined it, and brushed it off. It did not take long for a shirtless and slightly disheveled Christopher to open the door. His eyes squared on her and his face instantly softened. Trish had the feeling that had she been anyone else, they would've gotten a firm talking to.

"Hey," his voice was thick and husky, as if he hadn't spoken out loud in a long while. This was obviously not the case, and Trish wondered whether she had gotten him up out of bed.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I figured you'd want these." Raising her hand she showed him the two small white pills which lay in her palm. An awkward smile was on her lips as she realized she was pointing out the fact she had heard his little outburst a couple minutes before. Licking her lips she found herself retracing the features of his face. He was painfully handsome, wasn't he?

He smiled and she was sure she could hear her heart thudding in her ears.

"It's funny, I was about to go downstairs and see if I could buy some. I ran out like a day ago," he clarified. Opening the door wider for her, he stepped to the side and beckoned her to come in. Still hazed from the alcohol he had consumed earlier, he was unaware of how inappropriate it was to invite a married woman into his hotel room. Trish merely smiled and walked past him and into the dimly lit room. She had seemingly forgotten that fact as well. Perhaps she trusted herself too much?

Turning his head to watch her walk into the room, he couldn't help but eye the contours of her form. The silk nightgown she wore clung to her body perfectly and he took a moment to appreciate it, her body that is. Her slim waist led to the faultless curve of her hips and her derrière was the perfect shape. His masculine -and intoxicated- urge was to reach out and give it a nice tap. Thankfully, he refrained from doing so and shut the door audibly.

Walking up behind her, Trish could almost feel the heat of his body before he made an abrupt right. Turning to see where he was going, she noticed he was going over to the sink. Picking up a clear plastic cup, he filled it with some lukewarm tap water. "Am I going to have to answer a riddle to get those?" she heard him ask.

Walking further into the room she took in its state. It was exactly like hers for the most part. Perhaps the mediocre paintings on the wall were different, but not much else. She found herself seated upon a comfortable chair eyeing the television set which happened to be shut off.

What was she doing there? She asked herself. In sparse clothing and in the middle of the night, she was almost asking for trouble. But Christopher was respectful and if she had been able to push away her attraction to other men in the WWE, she could certainly do the same to Chris. After all, this could simply be a little crush. It was a high school term, yes, but it was not exclusively for those who were still paranoid about their GPA or what dress to wear for prom. A grown married woman could have one little, innocent, crush.

Chris had not heard her answer his question and he simply stood back and watched Trish's eyes glaze over as she was wrapped in thought. His judgment was still impaired but he had enough sense to keep from undressing her mentally. He was not himself after more than a couple drinks, and he would hate to ruin a business relationship because he offended a married woman.

After a moment longer, he stepped up a bit closer to her and cleared his throat. He grinned down at her in a friendly way, keeping his physical attraction to her veiled behind his naturally amicable personality. "Are you doing this to torture me?" he asked simply.

Trish snapped out of her stupor and looked up to meet Chris's blue eyes. She felt her heart beat race suddenly and she opened her mouth to speak, but closed it shut only a millisecond afterwards. She struggled to keep her mind focused. Would could he possibly mean by that? "What?" Trish muttered softly, staring up at him nervously and expectantly.

He laughed. A deep rich sound, it filled her and its contagious nature was impossible to deny. Trish let herself chuckle softly, unable to really help herself.

"You're sitting there with aspirin, and you're not letting me have them. Way to be cruel, Trish," he elaborated and did not notice as Trish's form relaxed in her seat.

A soft pricking heat made its way into Trish's cheeks and she blushed lightly. Obviously her thoughts had been elsewhere and she had to stop herself from trying to explain her actions. Chris rubbed the back of his neck and took a small step back, giving the beautiful woman in his room, room to stand up and not find her inches away from his warm shirtless form.

Silently, Trish thanked the heavens for the space and handed Chris the pills quickly. Muttering something about having to get some sleep, the blond female bid 'Jericho' farewell and left hearing Chris send her a wayward 'thank you' and 'goodnight'.

By the time they were both in their respective beds; both Patricia and Christopher thought of each other… both trying to figure out whether they had always had so much chemistry.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Short, sweet, simple, and… useless? No, I don't think so. I hate fics who have X & Y meet, have sex, fall in love, and run right into drama all in under two weeks flat. Sorry, I like to think that good –long lasting- things take a while to develop. R&R please! Oh, and the next chapter will be longer. Promise!


	5. I Love You's

**A/N:** First and foremost, Glamagirl, DarkAngelElektra, and dropkiss you guys are awesome and I send much love to all of you! In other news… Poor Chris! In my personal opinion (for those of you who know what I'm talking about) Chris did what he had to do when confronted by a mob of people who were getting physically violent. That particular woman (you know who) got what she deserved, and no one can make me think otherwise. Kudus to the WWE for siding with Chris!

I leave you to your reading! ;)

* * *

**I Love You's**

After weeks of preparation, of following the Raw superstars and not being able to take part, Patricia's time had finally come. Having poured herself into her ring attire, Trish looked better than ever. Long black and red tights were form fitted and her matching top was tight against the buxom beauty's ample chest. Eyeing herself in the mirror inside the women's locker room, her fingers nervously threaded into her blonde locks. She had her pre match jitters, as always, but was trying not to show it. Other Divas were still lounging around and doing nothing, but were watching Trish like hawks. Remember, there was no real animosity, but women were catty and especially in the WWE, where the next big push could be for you or your 'best friend'.

There were women on the Raw roster who felt they deserved the sort of push Trish was getting right off the bat. Obviously, their enmity toward the Canadian was blinding their judgment. If there was ever a more popular Diva than Trish, she had yet to arrive on the scene. As a Heel or a Face, Patricia's in-ring ability and her stunning looks were coupled with flawless promo work and charisma. If she did say so herself, if there was a Diva to give Beth a run for her money, it was her. A seven time women's champion and even a hardcore champion, none of the other women on the roster could possibly hope to achieve what she had. Perhaps this thinking came across as arrogant and haughty, but mind you, Trish was trying to psych herself up for her match.

No matter what she was thinking was true.

"You look fine, Trish," called a slightly peeved Candice. With her arms crossed and leaned back on the lockers, she looked uncomfortable and childish.

Ignoring the tone Candice had taken with her; Trish turned about face and smiled sincerely at the other woman. "It's not every day I get to return to Raw," she said simply. Adjusting her bottoms briefly, Trish decided it was best to shake off her jitters outside of the locker room. Flexing her fingers nervously and giving herself a final glance in the mirror she silently exited the confined space. She could've sworn she heard an angry grumble but she brushed the thought aside. Tonight was hers and no one was going to mess it up for her. Yes, she was going to lose, but she was finally home. Home is where the heart is, and for Trish, her heart was always going to be in the ring.

Out in the corridors she greeted those who worked backstage with a bright smile, receiving a couple hugs and 'good lucks'. Raw was live on such a Monday night and Trish could feel the electricity in the air, even backstage. The show had started two matches ago and everyone was busy making sure the show went off without a hitch. Not wanting to get in the way, she decided to go forth and comingle with her fellow wrestlers rather than interrupt the important members of the production team.

In the very back of her mind she subconsciously asked herself where Chris was. Without him, her losing to Beth was pretty much pointless. If she wasn't saved, then where did she go from there? She would surely be in the running for the belt again, she was Trish Stratus after all, but without a storyline it was merely a string of matches with no purpose. What was the fun in that?

Patricia had always appreciated the often 'soap opera-y' aspects of the WWE. Angles and storylines created icons or destroyed images. She had often been wrapped up in scripts which called for her to be the whimpering victim or the sexy siren, and she embraced it and everything in-between. She had yet to turn down a storyline, and to this day, many of the angles she partook in years ago, left fans wanting even more.

'Jericho' came into the picture in that respect.

Trish still remembered how much work it was to for her to quiet down the butterflies in her stomach after their first on screen kiss. She had kissed plenty of, then WWF, superstars ― as terrible as it sounded ― but the feeling she got from his lips was something which shook her. Back then, Chris was in a committed relationship to the woman who would become his wife and she… well, she was merely the bombshell he got to kiss and toy with on screen. Week in and week out, their plot twisted into something along the lines of 'Melrose Place'. The fans ate it up.

Eventually with Christian's injury, the angle was dropped and other feuds garnered their character's attention. Chris and Trish soon enough, merely smiled at each other in the backstage area or sent a greeting in passing.

Life moved on, as well it should. But now, years later, Trish was about to revive, not only her career, but the storyline which captured the minds of so many fans. In a funny sort of way, she felt like she was going to be able to meet Chris all over again and indulge in 'what could've been' for their characters and their characters alone…

* * *

In his wrestling attire, Chris 'Jericho' was coolly sipping from a water bottle. He had already shot his weekly 'I hate you Stephanie McMahon, watch me strut around attractively in an expensive suit' promo and the ever popular 'You fans are parasitic hypocrites' spot. He chuckled at the thought that they might be the last two of the sort he would do, at least for a long while. Looking forward to Trish's return, he was anxious to see and hear the attendees' reaction. He was easily one of the most hated Heels, and seeing him as an actual savior would be a stretch for the fans to buy into. But hey, if he could make them hate him, he could make them love him.

There was no better way for him to win the fans back. Surely the viewership would get déjà vu when they witnessed him coming to the aid for Trish Stratus once again as all those years ago; the most beautiful and talented woman to ever grace the WWE.

Eyeing the ground beneath his feet he let out a stray chuckle at his thinking. He placed her on a pedestal rather quickly had he not? But she really was gorgeous. His thoughts trailed off to two weeks ago when she had come to him with two magical little pills for his headache. So beguiling in her innocent gesture yet ever so tempting in her silken attire, he let himself ponder on what it would have been like to slowly undress her and-

"You know you're on in like fifteen minutes right?" said a very familiar voice.

Looking up, he grinned as Trish clasped her hands behind her and rolled on the balls of her feet. He eyed her childish posture and she took wind of it immediately. She stood up straight and pushed a couple stray locks of hair out of her face.

For some reason, Patricia suddenly felt inadequate around him. He always looked like a million bucks and reeked of money and power. The scent of haughty disdain threatened to suffocate her and she was perplexed by this feeling. Trish was sensing that air around his persona and she was taken aback at how well he portrayed his character. He had even fooled her for a second or two. Relaxing once she came to this realization, she continued:

"My match is up in a little bit and I just wanted to shake off the butterflies, you know?" She smiled up at him and it brightened when his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He shook her slightly and she couldn't help but laugh at his actions.

"Did that help?" Chris asked in a lightheartedly whiney and uncharacteristic voice.

"Not really," she responded with a playful frown. She felt his hands leave her bare shoulders and she suddenly missed the heat radiating off of his warm palms. Her thoughts quickly snapped back to her husband and she felt a pang of guilt hit her. She wasn't supposed to miss Chris's hands... she was supposed to miss Josh's. Nonetheless, her face did not fall as Chris smiled back at her.

"Have you stretched yet?" he asked after a small pause. He didn't want her pulling something or hurting herself on her return to Raw. That would not be a good way to start the rest of her wrestling career. Not that he should talk, he had had the Jericho Curse for years before it was finally lifted on his debut into the, then, WWF. Having had terrible first matches, it was only once he finally succeeded in acquiring his dream of wrestling for the WWF that he, you know, stopped fucking up his debut matches. And quite a debut it had been. Never had a wrestler gotten such a push in the past, and it was likely never to happen again.

Hearing his concern she titled her head slightly and watched him for a second. Was he being sincere? She scoffed at herself. Why would he not be? Chris had never shown any sort of ill feelings towards her and was a true gentleman. She had no reason to believe his question was anything but an effort to make sure she was on top of her game.

A subconscious part of her wanted to believe he was the douche he played on TV. Trish didn't want to find herself liking Chris the person anymore than she already did. He was a wonderful man who happened to be devastatingly handsome. Such a combination was hard to come by and she refused to be caught in the web of his charisma. Surely there would be no hope of escape if it came down to it. They were going to have a romance angle, and she had to do everything she could to keep her little crush in check. If it included questioning his sincerity, then so be it.

Her silence was thick and Chris let out a deep chuckle. "I'm going to assume you know what stretching is, and that you did it."

She didn't answer with words and instead patted his shoulder softly and turned to leave down the corridor they had been standing in. Her behavior seemed odd to Chris but he figured it was her nerves getting the best of her. He brushed off her speedy and silent exit and walked down the opposite end of the corridor.

Eventually, he would come across Phil or CM Punk as he's known, and stuck up an ordinary conversation which would keep him occupied till the time came to 'rescue' Trish.

* * *

To the flourish of her own music, Beth emerged from the curtain and onto the ramp with Santino and Rosa in tow. The arena, as of lately, was disinterested in the Diva's match to ensue. Expecting yet another Melina versus Beth match, the cheers and boos were passive and almost complacent.

Once inside the ring, Beth whispered conspiratorially to her cohorts and they sniggered maliciously. With a wave of her hand she dismissed them and they obediently moved to standby ringside. Santino and Rosa continued to mutter to each other and nodded in agreement. They were obviously plotting something and the camera remained on them long enough for everyone to catch on.

"I wonder who will wrestle Beth Phoenix tonight?" exclaimed Lawler through his headset. "This match was made last minute so it could be anyone. Hell, even Beth is in the dark as to who it could be! " King's excited voice was shrill but familiar. He knew all too well who would wrestle the Glamazon, and if King weren't always this excitable, perhaps someone would've suspected something.

Before Michael Cole could get a word in, the lights suddenly went out in the arena. There was a tense moment of expectation. As far as the fans could remember, no current Diva's entrance was that dramatic. The trademark giggles came on the sound speakers and the arena erupted in cheers. On their feet, the crowd popped for Miss Stratus. Incredibly, very little news about Trish's return to Raw was leaked and those that did disclose said information were brushed off. Surprise, surprise, the blonde bombshell had indeed arrived and was there, not to save, but to be saved. Eventually though, she'd receive an authentic chance of obtaining the title belt. But in the mean time she was going to enjoy the reemergence of on-screen romance. The WWE had been missing that factor for a while now; Patricia was happy to fill the void.

At that moment though, all Trish could think about was how amazing it felt to see people on their feet, chanting her name. Chills ran up and down her spine and her smile was so wide it almost hurt. Her face alight with the pure thrill of it all, she brought a microphone to her mouth from her position halfway down the ramp. "You know, Beth, I've been getting sick and tired of you," she said with a steely glare into the ring. From the inside of the squared circle, she could see Beth scowling dramatically at her. "I'm so sick in fact, that I've come back to shut you up!"

With those simple words, she dropped the mic and charged for the ring. The cheers from the fans fueled her further and she wanted to give them the show they'd all been missing. The moment she slipped under the bottom rope and into the ring she felt boots come down onto her ribs. Beth worked a bit stiff and it didn't take too much effort from Trish's part to sell them.

Getting pulled to her feet by the Glamazon, she was whipped towards the ropes and propelling herself forward was able to clothesline her larger opponent. Quickly falling upon the felled woman, Trish pummeled her with closed fists. Vivacious intensity seeped from her pores and it was a true spectacle to watch the returning blond Diva do what she was born to do.

The match continued and they seemed to be pretty evenly matched throughout it. Just when you thought one woman had the upper hand, the other would come back and retaliate. The crowd was watching the match with genuine interest rather than waiting for a wardrobe malfunction. 'Oohs' followed the spots during the match and it was easy to see that the match was being appreciated. Of course, the referee softly reminded them that the match and aftermath would have to occur very soon if they wanted to stick to the allotted time.

After perpetrating her first live _Stratusfaction_ in years, Trish went in for the last of her pins. This was of course when the scripted shit hit the invisible fan. Before the referee could bring his hand down for the final count, Santino and Rosa who had already interfered slightly, decided to show their true colors.

Quickly dropping an elbow onto the Canadian stunner's back, Rosa started the attack. Santino in turn moved to pull his girlfriend away from the now slightly uncontrollable Rosa. That character really would do anything for Beth and her resemblance to the old Mickie James character was obvious. The irony that she was attacking Trish of all people was palpable… Joining the Glamazon's biggest fan, Santino did the unthinkable and began to kick Trish in the ribs. Moaning in pain, Trish struggled against Santino as he dragged her onto her feet and gave a standard scoop drop. The force of said drop caused her to writhe in pain, her face contorted in its ugly semblance.

The referee was trying unsuccessfully to get Beth and her posse out of the ring. Already feeling better, Beth grabbed Trish by her lock locks and threw her out of the ring. Falling with a loud smack, Trish over sold it, but no one was really going to pay too much attention to that. Boo's and jeers were of course being directed toward her aggressors and so she figured she was more over than ever before. Even though she could already tell her body was going to be sore after the match, Patricia was more than happy to be there on the thin cold mats groaning in pain. How anyone could enjoy such a career choice was beyond her, but she certainly wasn't going to question her life at this point.

Thrown unceremoniously against the steel steps by a screeching Rosa, Trish purposefully let her head bang against them a bit dramatically. Temporarily 'knocked out', Beth assaulted the 'unconscious' Stratus with kicks and punches; there seemed to be no end in sight.

With her hazel eyed closed and laying limp against the barrier beside the ring, she heard loud boos and slightly confused cheers. Had it not been for the fact she was face down on the floor, her hair covering her visage, everyone would have witnessed Trish brake character and smile. That sort of reaction was reserved for Mr. Jericho himself. The fans were torn. Was he here to help or to exacerbate the situation? The majority of the audience was hesitant to jump to conclusions.

Cockily strutting down the ramp, Chris seemed to think he could take his time in coming to the aide of Trish. And really, would his character do it any differently? No one rushed Jericho.

By the time Jericho was near the fallen Diva, Santino tried to head him off. With a quick kick in the balls from Chris, the 'Italian' was stunted in crippling pain. Falling in a theatrical manner, he was now of no bother. Rosa, suddenly not as sure of herself, back peddled and looked to Beth for direction. With a flip of her hair, the Glamazon spit in Trish's direction and decided she was too good to beat an unconscious woman. Smartly going around the ring in the opposite direction of where Chris stood, she eyed the blond man with disdain.

The crowd, for the first time in ages, was willing to cheer for Chris. Some of them were hesitant still and watched with bated breath as Jericho leaned down to pick the 'unconscious' Trish up in his arms. Slipping an arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, he lifted her smoothly. Pressing her light frame up against him, he started to take her up the ramp safely in his grasp.

Trish's face was relaxed and nuzzled in the crook of Jericho's neck. Her heart raced and she was sure Chris could feel it. She tried desperately to appear limp and lifeless, but she was tense with the feeling of his warmth against her. With each one of his movements she could feel his muscles work under his cleanly scented flesh. He had so easily taken her into his arms; she could feel how strong he was. Chris didn't seem to be struggling with her, but she found herself gripping him slightly. Was she subconsciously trying to bring herself closer; to feel him further?

There wasn't much time to think as they finally made it behind the curtain. Opening her eyes she smiled and loosened her grip from her savior as he gently placed her back onto her feet. Uneasy with the way her body responded to his touch, Patricia dumbly smiled up at Chris. He beamed back at her and awkwardly clapped her on the arm in a friendly manner. "You were great out there. I'd praise you some more but I've gotta get ready for my match and then our first promo-"

With confused eyes, Trish interjected, "Our first promo?" She had not heard of this and was slightly annoyed that no one had mentioned it. Trish knew herself enough to know she wasn't the best at adlibbing and improvisation. She certainly couldn't hold her own against Chris without a script.

A side-swept grin came over Chris's features and he licked his lips. Trish couldn't help herself and let her eyes dart to his mouth for the briefest second. "Well, you're not in it, but it has to do with us," he clarified, starting to walk further into the backstage area.

"Oh, well…" Trish trailed off as she noted he was kind of in a hurry. He sent a wayward smirk in a 'good-bye' sort of gesture and she could've sworn her knees went weak for a moment and a half.

* * *

Away from the cameras and inside his dressing room, Christopher was binding his wrists. With a heavy sigh he was slowly going through the match in his head; perhaps not every detail, but the spots and whatnot. For a moment he felt kind of bad for Phil. How many times had CM Punk lost to him? Surely Vince could've found someone else to lose to him? It was starting to seem that Punk was becoming Chris's official jobber. If Chris had to beat anyone, to get anywhere, it was always poor Phil. In fact, he had apologized earlier in the night to him. Thankfully, the Straight Edge superstar had no hard feelings against him. That was just the way the business worked sometimes.

Done with one wrist, he changed hands and in turn changed topics as well. Thinking of how Trish was received by the fans brought a smile to his face. He was aware of what the fans were saying about most of the Divas. They were pretty but unathletic; all they had were hair pulling contests. Of course, Beth and Melina were the 'fighting' Divas, but how many matches could they have before it got old? Obviously, that moment had come and gone.

The fans could finally get what they had so desperately wanted: A true Diva. Trish Stratus went from being Vince's little kayfabe slut to the most prolific and athletic woman on either brand in decades. She was going to bring the Divas belt back to rightful place, around her slender waist.

Thinking of said waist, he finally allowed himself to ponder on the feeling of Patricia's perfect body in his arms. Her every curve had been flush against him and he had felt her soft breath against his neck. Every so often he would feel her plush mouth brush haphazardly against his flesh. He got a jolt of lust for her, and tried to physically shrug away the sensation.

This would not end well, he thought to himself. He had merely had his hands on her in a most platonic manner and already he wanted to touch her again. That stupid clap on her arm? By the time his hand had reached out to touch her, he had to improvise. He had really meant to softly caress her cheek but rethought his actions 'mid-flight', so to speak. He had obviously come across as an idiot, but he hoped he had saved himself the mortification of advancing on a married woman. He placed himself in Josh's position and it sobered him up quickly. Not only was Trish was a friend, but he sure as well was not going to try and lure her away from a happy marriage. What type of man would he be if he did that?

* * *

The camera's followed a sweaty and panting Chris Jericho as he made his way backstage. Even though he had just beaten Punk in a grueling match, the man still glowered angrily. "Never happy with anything at all, that Jericho," voiced Michael Cole.

"I'm just worried about Trish! I don't know what's worse, being beaten by Beth and her crew or being taken by Jericho!" always thinking of the women, King let out an exasperated sigh and worried groan.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a pained grimace, Chris sauntered ever closer to his destination. Wrestlers eyed him as he walked by but no one said a word. Though he looked perpetually irritated, there was a certain determination to his walk this time. He needed to get to his dressing room.

In due time, he reached the door which at the moment housed his name on a plaque on its façade, his things inside, and hopefully something else. Something which garnered his immediate interest. In an uncharacteristic manner, Jericho let out a small sigh and tapped his own door softly. "Trish?" his voice was thick with the exertion of his last match mere moments ago. "Trish?" he tried again.

His scowl deepened and he knocked harder. "Look, I left you in there all by yourself all this time. The least you can do is let me in and thank me!" he barked at her, his annoyance visible from anyway you looked at him. Grabbing the door knob, he angrily tried to push it open, but surprise, it was unlocked and he easily gained entrance.

"You-" he cut himself off as he noticed Trish was not where he left her. The camera panned the room and then fell upon a red couch pressed against a white wall. There was a depression in the seats where Trish's form had once laid, and nothing else. No other trace of her presence was visible. From the couch, the shot changed to Chris's face. His scowl softened slightly and he rubbed his face with something along the lines of annoyance and disappointment. With a shuddered breath he let his body fall back on said couch. Relaxed and quiet, his blue eyes fluttered closed and that was that.

Such was the final shot the crowd in the arena or the fans at home got of Chris that night. The sight of an exhausted Jericho after winning his shot at the World Heavyweight Championship and seemingly pinning for a woman he had 'loved' years ago. His persona was an enigma if there ever was one.

Trish, sitting in the women's locker room eyed the monitor within it with curiosity. Aww, poor Chris had missed her. Her excitement of their angle resurfaced and her nerves at working with him were lulled into a light slumber. This was going to be good. When was the last time a superstar really had a good angle with a woman? The newer PG rating for the WWE had extinguished a plethora of ideas, but it seemed the thought of Jericho and Trish part deux was good enough to be pushed.

There were plenty of younger viewers who wouldn't have the slightest inkling of the past Y2J and Trish Stratus had, but it was worth a shot. Surely, a large portion of the demographic had to be older than twelve. Nonetheless, if the audience did not respond to this 'union' of sorts, the angle would be dropped and it would likely never come up again. Which was for the best in the end. There were only so many times a gimmick could be used before it got annoyingly old.

An example of such was Kane. How many times had he obsessed over a woman? How many of them were kidnapped by him and taken into the 'depths of hell'? Surely there had to be fresher ideas for Glen Jacobs to take part in. Unfortunately a bout of bad writing had left the 'monster' without a real direction.

That could've been her, Trish mused. She could be in another washed up angle where the woman is in a mixed tag match, kisses her partners cheek, and becomes a valet. Wow, how exciting. The sarcasm of her thoughts was reflected upon her face and caused her lip to curl. There was nothing essentially wrong with such a storyline. All except the fact there was no story to tell. If even a match was supposed to tell a story, then why had _story_lines lost all creativity? Trish didn't mind doing what she was told, but she liked to think that she was contributing to something, anything.

At least with the angle she and Chris had there was chemistry― that much was obvious since they had met years ago, they were both talented, and they were both important members of the roster. Romance angles were usually held for the mid-card but she believed that they could be interesting enough and important enough to fuel main event feuds and genuinely involve the audience. The odd love triangle, which sadly never was, between Stephanie, Hunter, and Chris was proof enough that with star power and chemistry, any little angle could change an era.

In her heart of hearts, Trish knew that this second run at Chris and Trish would go somewhere. So far, there was no third wheel to try and steal away a piece of story. It was just them and Chris's quest for the gold. She feared what her attraction to him could lead to, but she was willing to fight it out to see where their characters went. Her passion for the business, she thought, would allow her to remain professional in Christopher's wake.

All this time, Trish had stood stock still a couple of feet from the monitor. Orton's and Rey's match was on, but Trish already knew who would win. No matter how hard the fans rooted for Rey and how close he was to overcoming the odds… he didn't really stand a chance in the world of kayfabe. The Legend Killer would end the match as he did most: Victorious. This would obviously lead to Jericho against Orton the following week for the World Heavyweight Championship.

Her mindset was still upon their angle and so she found herself hoping that such an important event would not leave her and their angle on the back burner.

* * *

With the conclusion of Raw on that night, Trish was still ambling along the corridors. While most superstars left as soon as their bouts and promos had ended, she remained till the very end. At times she stayed late enough to watch the ring be dismantled and the ramp taken apart piece by piece. There was a certain humbling aspect to watching things so mighty in their visual grandeur be taken apart and loaded into boxes as if they were really nothing special at all.

It was easy to bask in the cheers of thousands of individuals, go back to her hotel room and spend the day-to-day without ever noticing just how truly lucky she was. Just as with the turnbuckles, ropes, and mats, they could be stuffed into crates and lose their purpose. She understood that was also the life of a wrestler. Without an arena full of screaming fans you were just another commodity that when worn down, could be packed away. The memories and accolades remained of course, but you could never retire from being a wrestler and become, say, a post-man. A wrestler without a ring was like a body without a soul. As much as she was loved and respected she knew that one day, with the metaphorical bang of Mr. McMahon's gavel, everything she loved about her professional life would vanish. Of course, this would never be of her own accord. If she were ever to leave, it would be forcibly.

Her stroll through the back passageways of the arena came to a halt as she absentmindedly leaned back against a stack of crates. It was about time Trish should start heading back to her hotel room, but she knew there was nothing for her. A bed awaited her but she was not ready to welcome it with open arms. Perhaps going to a bar or a club, get a bite to eat with some of the other Divas would satisfy her need for stimulation. Alas, she wasn't in that sort of mood. Trish wasn't hungry and she wasn't in the mood to swat men off like ravenous mosquitoes on such a nostalgic night for her. It seemed perhaps she would be one of the last to leave the building…

There was a door somewhere down the hall to her left and Trish was unceremoniously shoved from her reverie when she heard the door open. From the opening she saw Chris emerge with a slight smile. Behind him, Stephanie McMahon followed suit. Currently wrapped up in soft conversation, the Canadian female merely watched them, from afar, with curious eyes.

Their air of professionalism was thick with something else, and it took a moment or two for Trish to decipher exactly what it was. Chemistry. Even as the stunning employer and employee kept a respectful distance between each other and were sending none of the traditional signals… Patricia could smell the attraction all the way from down the hall. A slightly scratchy laugh which was obviously Stephanie's, was light and she shook her head at something Chris had said. He chuckled deeply and licked his lips to add perhaps another comment.

Knowing that perhaps she shouldn't be staring so intently, Trish suddenly took a great interest in the spiked heel of her black pumps. Leaning on one side against the stack of crates, she raised her leg up slightly and inspected the end with narrowed eyes and looked quite awkward in her own endearingly beautiful way. While she was trying to focus on something other than the soft background conversation, she questioned her actions critically. Surely natural curiosity could be blamed for her interest in what Chris and Steph could possibly be talking about. But she knew herself well enough to know it was more than that.

The dull hum of conversation died down to silence and Trish could hear the click of heels start to sound; only they grew softer, as the shuffle of another pair of feet grew louder. Heaving a sigh, the Canadian female grew sick of her childish behavior and quickly steadied herself. She was a grown woman and she was acting like a snoopy teenager. What did she care about Chris and Stephanie? They could be talking about any number of things that didn't necessarily pertain to her.

She came to the conclusion that boredom did not suit her and turned to glance at her left and saw Chris walking towards her. She could already tell he wasn't heading for her purposely; rather he was just making his way down the hall. Casually dressed with a band-tee, jeans, and a jacket he was no less attractive than he had been in his suit at the beginning of the show. Duffle bag in hand, he smiled at Trish once he was close enough to acknowledge her.

"Hey," was his sole soft word. Trish figured he'd walk past her but smiled as he stopped dead in his tracks. "You're staying till longer?" he asked with a cock of his head.

"I guess not…" she trialed off with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I've been wandering around for a while for no real reason. I think I might just leave already," she finished running her fingers through her hair as habit dictated.

"Well if you're gonna go now, I'll walk you out," he said with a small sweep of his hand, gesturing her to follow him if she so pleased. All he got in return was a bubbly smile and a nod of Trish's head. Taking just a step or two, he waited for her as she came up beside him. "Your stuff?" he asked curiously, his eyes sweeping her frame briefly. Had he been looking for a bag or―?

"I already put my stuff in my car, actually," she muttered with a smile. "I kind of planned on hanging out here for a while."

A knowing smile brightened Chris's countenance and turned to look at her. "I did the same thing when I came back. It felt surreal almost. I did a lot of things in my off time, but I just didn't feel like myself. I was content being away from wrestling, I needed the break, but after a while I missed everything. Even things I had-"

"-Even things you had hated?" Trish cut in.

"Exactly."

His words made her sigh heavily. "I don't think I've felt this good in years," she muttered truthfully. "The fans, you guys, the crew… I don't know why I ever left."

"You left so when you came back, you could see how much people really liked you and missed you. And that's conceited," he ribbed her and was rewarded with a soft shove on Trish's part.

It didn't take much longer for them to arrive at the parking lot. With a brief one-armed hug, Chris reminded her that they would indeed see each other the following morning. Creative was fiddling with storylines and all those involved in one would be expected to attend. "I was actually talking to Stephanie about our thing…" he trailed off and shrugged as he opened Trish's car door for her. Always so chivalrous, she noted.

"And?" She sat herself down on in her seat and looked up into his eyes. Even in the dark of night they were beautiful. Their blue hue was haunting in the odd outdoor lighting. She found herself fascinated by them before her phone suddenly went off. The ringtone was frighteningly familiar and then it hit her: Josh.

"I'll let you get that. See you tomorrow Patricia." Her hearing her full name was odd and yet, if it was possible, endeared him to her further. Chris shut her door before she could reply. Smiling at her through the glass he tapped it twice and winked in an official goodbye.

Pulling her phone from the purse which had been locked inside her car, she picked up her husband's call. She spoke to him for a couple moments and she felt her heart flutter. God she missed him. In the end, she sent him a kiss the words she longed to hear from him, herself: "I love you."

On the other end of the line came a soft sigh, "I love you too."

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, so ends the chapter. This one was focused more on Trish, so the next will focus on Chris. Remember R/R! Oh, and pardon the typos on this chapter… Don't kill me, I've been pretty tired but I wanted to get this chapter up already.


End file.
